Insanity at its Best
by SeaOfWisdom18
Summary: He was the hero, not that wretched son of Neptune. He, Octavian Casio, would prove to the camp that he was the only saviour. Only, instead of a sword, he had simple logic and skill by his side. Enjoy this odd oneshot! R&R!


**AND...I'm BACK! Believe it or not, I'm actually working on all of my stories right now, hence the short break that I didn't tell you guys about..you probably all gave up on me months ago, but hey! New readers who are oblivious to my previous disappointment story wise, let's continue! Lol, but really, I had to take a break from rewriting plots and revising chapter...this is the break :) Enjoy and Please review!**

**This is slight intended humor, but 95% serious...so yeah...lol.**

The door to the lavish, yet small cabin across the Principia swung open and closed in such a hurry, that dust sprang up from the hinges.

A hand dug into the polished tan desk and ripped out an old, leathery booklet the size of the boy's hand.

A mop of dirty blonde hair was moved angrily away from the pale face of Octavian Casio as he carefully flipped open the pages of the ancient novel.

His eyes skimmed nervously, yet quickly as he strained to find the information he needed.

"It must be the thoughts on my head that are distracting me," he muttered hotly. He cursed himself for being so vulnerable to the indirect threats that the _Graecus _had been sending him.

Almost immediately, he growled and folded his hands in front of him...his thinking pose. His _angry _thinking pose.

"Oh, Percy Jackson, son of Neptune, our _savior,_" Octavian mocked the idiotic _brutes _of his stupid camp.

"More like an unintelligent boy who got lucky." Very much unlike himself, Octavian thought smugly.

And that apparently _mysterious, freaky powerful, "badass" _son of Pluto. The blonde teenager huffed indignantly.

"The only thing mysterious about him is why he doesn't ever freakin use that scraggly piece of cloudy rock he calls a sword." he ranted. Octavian knew he shouldn't have acted the way he was, but he couldn't stop.

"BADASS? For gods sake, the only thing _bad _about him is the fact that he's also an ass for lying to everyone about the fact that he _sleeps with a stuffed animal, _and making everyone think he's such a bad boy. LIES! LIES ARE THE ONLY THING HE'S GOOD FOR!"

He threw his hands in the air and dropped them to his sides, not even wincing at the pain.

"Oh, don't even get me started on that smart little wise-ass daughter of Minerva!" The teen paced around his room frantically, mocking the girl. "_OH, LOOK, Octavian. I didn't mean to point it out, but you missed ten feet on that scale drawing there. Not there...a little more left..there! Yep! Now, we wouldn't want the new addition to that cabin to run into the weaponry shed, now would we?"_

"Damn right I wouldnt, but I don't want to hear it from you."

Finally done with his rant, he threw the book across the floor and it skidded to a halt.

A small slip of paper flew from the cover, and curious, Octavian picked it up. His eyes hardened at the sight of her.

Esmeralda, or better known as Emma, Casio.

His _mother._

Normally, he would have been elated to see her...joyous beyond human capacity.

If he were still five years old.

Twelve years ago, he would have treasured the picture in a golden frame.

That is, before she _died._

Yeah, the one thing dear to cold Octavian's heart...was his mother. _So sweet._

She was nice without knowing, funny without trying, generous without forcing. She was Emma, the kindhearted person.

Kindhearted.

Laidback.

The persona Octavian had long grown out of.

He chuckled for the first time in weeks.

He used to be _just _like that...Travis Stoll.

Funny, a total prankster, annoying yet fun to be around...nice.

Until his life turned out to be total mistake-a _huge, _"unintentional" mistake. A miscalculation. _Literally._

It was all because of his stupid grandfather, teaching him to be better, yet not too cocky at the same time.

All he heard at the time was 'better.'

Be better.

As in, you're not good enough.

After _the incident_, all he wanted to _be _was better.

_Much _better. The best.

"I'm supposed to be the hero," Octavian spat bitterly. "Not that bloody idiot of a demigod. I'm supposed to lead the camp to war, not those traitors we call _friends. _I'm supposed to be the best." At last, he broke down.

The cruel, cold hearted, annoying, smug augur...broke down.

The mere thought of his mother had killed him.

"I'm supposed to be the best!" he said plaintively.

For a moment, his thoughts wandered to that annoying mortal show, Pokémon's theme song, and he groaned, cursing at his old..former friends who had forced him to be "normal" and watch "the good stuff."

Octavian buried his heads in his hands and screamed. Loudly. So loudly that he had to bite himself from yelling more.

'I wasn't always like this,' he tried to mentally convince himself every time he thought of her. Mom wouldn't want me to be like this...

Mother used to say, "Oh Octavian...you're just a little competitive, that's all. Just tone it down a bit."

He never did.

'I wouldn't be like this if that stupid Percy Jackson hadn't come raining in on my praetor parade,' he thought angrily. He suddenly remembered a few things his grandfather used to say to him whenhe was planning devious plots to destroy his 2nd grade enemies.

"If the piece doesn't fit into your mind's puzzle...will you start a new puzzle and attempt to conform it to those few small, yet relevant pieces? Or will you simply dispose of them and finish the puzzle yourself? What you want depends on how terribly bad you want to finish the puzzle."

The quote from his wise grandfather rang in his ears.

"There will always be the end of the road in front of you. It's just a matter of how you drive and with what you drive with. Would you rather have a fairly new station wagon, or an old, scratched up, beaten down Lamborghini? Your choice."

Suddenly, his mind, his brilliant mind thought over the morals of his grandfather and for a brief moment, started thinking about the Greeks...

Their weaknesses. Their individual weaknesses! That was the key! Octavian rushed back to his forgotten book and looked through it carefully, yet anxiously.

'That uhm...Hecate cabin...they have magic...right? I'm sure if I can manage to pick up a few skills...'He muttered to himself, flipping through the thin pages.

Finally, after hours of studying, he found it. It was buried among other useless Greek facts, but he found it.

_-and each has a specific weakness according to their-_

_-A small, slightly hypothetical layer-_

The cabins can wait, Octavian thought deliriously, not caring to think about the duties he had. Right now, he had a hero to break apart.

And then. And _then..._he would show them. He would show _everyone _that he was always the hero, not that wretched Son of Neptune.

They would be wrong. All of them. And Octavian could smile as he watched them realize that everything was a complete and total lie.

Everything, as far as they were concerned, was simply a simple trick of the...what was it called?...Oh yes.

The mist.

**OH YEA! WAIT WAIT WAIT BEFORE YOU STOP READING THIS! The paragraph about how Octavian could wait? That was partly stolen From SergeantSprinkles' awesome story, "Cupcakes" of My Little Pony...the story on FF is actually reposted by another author, but I HAD to give props!**

**Okay, it was terrible, but I'll probably revise it soon! I did it in 20 minutes with absolutely NO second revision...So yeah, I'll revise it...**


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